At the Hospital the work was getting rather overwhelming. I was not strong yet, but if I appeared at the Hospital at all, I had to see everyone. At the hundred and twentieth or thirtieth patient the backache came on horribly. If I did not go the patients crowded round the door of the Hospital and said, “When is the Doctor coming; ask him to come for God’s sake.” What could I do? I was obliged to go. If I had been strong I should have enjoyed it, but the overwork delayed my recovery, and I became much depressed. I thought of resigning and coming away, but I knew His Highness was not yet well, and in addition he had just then the annoyance of finding evidence of intrigue and swindling among some of the higher Officials: heavy fines were imposed, and there were extensive alterations in the higher appointments. I did not want to add to his annoyances by resigning; but to my last day I shall never forget the weary drag of that and the immediately succeeding time.

On Friday, the Sabbath, I went for a ride with the Armenian. We rode east from Kabul past the Bala Hissar, where Cavagnari was, and round the huge marsh or lake that lies in the middle of the Kabul Valley. All around were the mountains, and between them and the lake were fields of clover, stubble where corn had been, gardens, trees, and fortified country houses. The lake is in some parts very deep and in others shallow. Here the rushes grow thick, making a cover for huge numbers of wild duck that flock to Kabul in the autumn and winter. A great deal of the land about the marsh belongs to His Highness’ sister. We passed her country house—a fort. We saw also the tomb where the Amîr’s father is buried. At the extreme east of the lake, near the village of Bîni Hissar, the road took us a little up the foot of the mountain. I pulled up a few minutes to admire the view.

In the foreground, on the margin of the lake, was one tree coloured golden-yellow by the autumn: near it were others still green. Beyond were brown rushes and the lake. Further, on the opposite bank, the trees, massed together, were tinted all shades of green, brown, and yellow. Then rose up the hazy purple mountains, range beyond range, dim and shadowy in the distance, and above, the blue of the sky flecked here and there by little white clouds.

I was charmed—but I could not rouse any enthusiasm in the Armenian. Like most Orientals he looked upon an afternoon ride as an unnecessary and laborious nuisance; still he would not consent to my going alone.

In the autumn and winter the Amîr and the Princes ride duck shooting through the shallow parts of the marsh.

One day, some two or three years after the time of which I am writing, I was riding in this direction with Mr. Collins, the geologist, when, just as we rounded the corner of the Peshawur Road, which leads off directly opposite the Bala Hissar, we heard the rattle of kettledrums. We pulled up, knowing that the Amîr must be at hand. Presently, there came in sight right opposite the Bala Hissar the Amîr’s mounted guard of Barakzais. Then came the drummers, who rode just in front of His Highness. We dismounted as the Amîr approached. He was seated in his palanquin, and the bearers scuffled along rapidly, leaning on the pole. His Highness carries a walking-stick when he rides in the palanquin, and if the pace is not speedy enough, the nearest bearer receives a reminder in the shape of a prod in the back. His Highness, when he saw us, halted the cavalcade and enquired if we were well. He told us he had been duck shooting on the Bala Hissar marsh.

It was a pretty sight. The young Page boys in their gold-embroidered uniforms scampered about on their horses. The guard rode steadily, and the servants, with their turbans and many-coloured garments—one with the chillim, another with a charcoal brazier, a third with a samovar for tea, a fourth with the Amîr’s chair, and so on—these followed in great numbers. Altogether, with the background of the Bala Hissar, it made a striking sight.

At the end of October, the Chief, whose brother was at the Court of the Amîr as hostage, came to Kabul to salaam His Highness. The brother, whom I knew in Turkestan, called one morning upon me to say that the Chief, who had wished to come and see me, was ill with fever; would I visit and prescribe for him. Accordingly, I accompanied my friend to the house the Chief had taken in Kabul. A large following of dependants and servants had arrived with him. They treated me with great respect, and I was shown in an upper-room, where the Chief lay ill with fever. He was a broad-shouldered stout man, about five feet seven inches in height, and I should say about thirty-five years old. He was not alone: the room was nearly full of people; I think an Afghan hates nothing more than his own company: he is bored in no time.

The province belonging to the Chief has a very hot climate. It lies in the south-east. In Kabul, at this time, though the sun was still hot, there was a cutting wind blowing, and the Chief and his people did not wrap themselves up as they should have done.

Tea, cigars, and sweets were brought, and after examining the Chief’s condition, I sat and talked to him and his brother for some time. He was an intelligent man. One of his favourite amusements was photography; he dabbled, too, in chemistry, and showed me a scar in his hand, where he had been injured by an explosion when he was learning something about the science. Afterwards, I examined some of his retinue; eight of them were ill with the fever.

This Chief was beloved, or admired—or whatever the corresponding sentiment is in an Afghan’s bosom—by his Clansmen. But in the eyes of His Highness he was as a poppy grown very tall. It was necessary that something be done lest he should overtop all other flowers. He had, I heard, been receiving a subsidy of a lac of rupees a year from the Afghan Government. This was altered: and while he was in Kabul, a new “Governor” was sent to take command in his province. This was not pleasing to the Clansmen: they did not love—or whatever the sentiment is—the Governor as they did the Chief, for he was a stranger. They, therefore, slew him. Another was sent; him they also slew, and the Chief was by-and-bye allowed to return to his Province, though without the subsidy.

CHAPTER XXIII.
The Amîr’s Illness.

In the early part of November I was sent for to the Erg Palace. When I arrived, His Highness was sitting on a couch or divan covered with a cloth of dull crimson velvet and gold. He was dressed in a robe of green velvet and gold with a white turban. The couch was in the small room that opens on one side into the Octagonal hall, and on the other into the gardens. His Highness said that he still had some pain in the knee and foot, and he would be glad if I would send him a liniment that would take away the pain and enable him to ride.

Afterwards he asked my opinion with regard to the action of certain acids of native production, and we tried some experiments upon copper and brass. His Highness wanted an acid that could be procured cheaply, for the purpose of cleaning copper cartridge cases.

The next day I went to the Palace again, taking with me a liniment. Presently Malek, the favourite Page, came out, and seeing me waiting in the gardens among the Secretaries, came up and asked if he should take the medicine in and say I had arrived. He soon came out again, and I was called in with the Armenian. We sat in one of the small rooms or alcoves, waiting. His Highness was not visible when I went in. He was in the room he had occupied the day before, but it was curtained off from the Octagonal hall. Two or three of the Page boys came up and asked when I was going to London. I began to think my “leave of absence” had been mentioned by the Amîr. Just then His Highness appeared; he was fully dressed, and walked with the aid of a stick. We all rose and bowed. A table and chair were placed for him in the room where we were. He spoke to me about his health, and asked me the properties of the liniment, saying it had a pleasant smell.

Presently the “early breakfast” was brought for the Amîr on a silver tray. It consisted of tea, which he drank out of a glass mug set in silver, hot milk, and some cakes and macaroons. A table and tea were brought for me, and I sat opposite to him. The others sat on the ground and tea was carried round to them by the servants. His Highness did not eat anything, and he told one of the Courtiers, Naim Khan, to bring the tray to me. I do not know if Naim liked being a waiter for once in a way, but he obeyed at once. However, he was a good fellow, about twenty-six, and was always a friend of mine, so I do not think he minded very much. He was very smart, with a pale blue—almost grey—brocaded silk postîn and a beaver busby. The Amîr asked me to visit the Deputy Commander-in-Chief, Perwana Khan, who was ill.

I returned to the Hospital, but in the afternoon was sent for again by His Highness. He asked me to examine and prescribe for his infant son, Prince Aziz Ullah, who, the Hakims informed him, was suffering from disease of the ear. I went off to the Harem Serai at once, and presently the child was brought out into the waiting-room. He was carried in the arms of an old man. The child was about two years old, and was the son of one of the minor ladies of the Harem. He was a pretty little fellow, with large dark eyes and a fair skin. I looked at him as he was being brought out, and saw a dusky livid appearance about the lips; and that the nostrils worked at each breath.

“A bad ear!” I thought. “If that is not lungs, I am an Afghan!”

I put my ear on his back, and the bubbling and crackling of the air as it was sucked through the inflamed bronchial tubes was loud enough for even a Hakim to hear. I asked how long he had been like that. Twenty days! He was suffering from broncho-pneumonia following measles. The ear was a trivial matter.

Perwana Khan was suffering, the Hakim said, from colic. I found he had a stone in the kidney.

The same day I received a letter from Prince Habibullah asking me to attend Sirdar Ressùl Khan, the Amîr’s cousin, son of Sirdar Usuf, who is the son of Amîr Dôst Mahomed. Sirdar Ressùl had a crippled arm: he had injured it some time before while out duck shooting.

I was told that the liniment relieved the Amîr’s pain at once; but I do not know—it may have been merely Oriental politeness that led them to say so. I did not see His Highness for some days, as he was the guest of the Dabier-ul-Mulk.

A day or two afterwards, as I had not seen the little Prince, Mahomed Omer, since my illness, I wrote to the Sultana for permission to visit him.

He was living with the Sultana, at a place about ten miles out of Kabul: the country house of one of the Chief Secretaries, Mir Ahmad Shah, having been placed at Her Highness’ service.

The Sultana was kind enough to send her brougham and pair for me. The roads were very good, and I felt very important riding rapidly along in the Queen’s carriage.

We reached the Prince’s quarters. He had a separate establishment from the Sultana, and I was conducted to a crimson and blue tent. Tea, cigars, and sweets were brought while my salaams were carried to the Prince and word was taken to the Sultana that I had arrived. After staying there about an hour, we got into the carriage again and drove about half a mile further on to the Port, where the Sultana was living. Here I was received in a large many-coloured silk tent by the Sultana’s uncle (on her father’s side). This gentleman is a Seyid and Priest, and is addressed by the title of “Pir” or Reverend.

My chair was placed at the end of the tent, by the side of that of the Reverend gentleman, on a cloth of gold. The others, including the Armenian, sat on the ground along the sides of the tent, some distance from us. I perceived that the Sultana did things in style. Many polite speeches were made, and kind messages brought from Her Highness. Trays of sweetmeats then appeared, native ones—and delicious. I went for them vigorously, for since my illness I had an intense craving for sweets, butter, and all fattening things. Cigars and tea followed, and, after an interval, fruit. There were apples, pears, grapes, quinces, melons, and other fruit. Then came lunch, an elaborate one, in the native style, and uncommonly good I thought it. More cigars, fruit, and conversation followed.

I did not see the little Prince after all, because the weather was considered too cold to bring him out.

I then asked permission to retire, but before I went Her Highness presented me with a beautiful little Kataghani horse, which, I was informed, she had chosen herself.

We entered the carriage again and drove back to Kabul, arriving home at five p.m.

I then went to the Harem Serai to see little Prince Aziz Ullah, but the chance of his recovery was small.

Then I saw an old gentleman, named Saîf Ullah Khan, one of the high officials of Jelalabad, who was on a visit to Kabul. He had fever. He was a very gentlemanly old man, and asked if he could do anything for me in Jelalabad. I said he could send me some honey if he wished; for a delicious honey is obtained from a village near Jelalabad. He promised; but did not send it.

I dined with Mr. Pyne soon after this, and an excellent dinner he gave me. He had brought a large stock of tinned provisions from India during his last trip. Pastry, asparagus, green peas, cheese, cocoa, and Swiss milk were novelties to me. He was lucky enough to get away every cold season, and generally journeyed to England for more machinery.

It had been thought that little Prince Aziz Ullah was becoming somewhat better, but in spite of colour in the cheeks he had the greyness about the nostrils that is so ominous of evil in a child, and I sent word to his mother that his life was in great danger. He died the next morning; five days after my first visit.

The Chief with fever became well, but he would not take advice and wrap himself up. Either from that, or some other cause, he developed acute intestinal catarrh; and the Amîr sent word to me to visit him. He became well eventually, and went back to his province.

Just at this time—the end of November—the weather was most disagreeable. There were heavy clouds and constant rain. This is bad enough in England, but in Kabul it is abominable. The rain made havoc with the roads and houses. Very few of the roads were in any sense “macadamized,” and one splashed and slipped along through quagmires and pools. The houses, especially of the poorer people, slightly built of mud with wooden supports, were, some of them, literally washed down.

I went about my daily work in Kabul, seeing patients, performing surgical operations where necessary; and in the evenings I smoked and read my old books over and over again, little knowing that the Amîr had had a severe return of gout and was lying dangerously ill at the Palace. News leaks out in time, chiefly by means of the Page boys, but it is little outsiders know at first of what is going on in the Palace.

On December 2nd, at nine p.m., just as I had turned in, there came a hammering at the gates. Presently one of the soldiers of the guard came hurrying to my room and said, in Persian,

“Rise! Amîr Sahib calls you.”

I pulled on my boots, threw on a postîn, and in a very few seconds was in the porch. Quick as I had been, I found my horse saddled and bridled. I rode rapidly along the dark deserted streets, slippery with wet, the puddles glistening in the light of an occasional lamp: a soldier was in front and a soldier behind me. Then I heard the clatter and splash of other horses, and looking back saw the Armenian advancing rapidly, accompanied by the soldier who had called him. This was somewhat of a relief to me, for I did not know the soldiers, and the Armenian was always a protection. I guessed now that the Amîr was ill, and that the time had arrived when he wished to undergo European medical treatment. Presently we arrived at the Erg Palace, and, leaving our horses at the gate, were at once admitted by the sentry. We hurried across the gardens to the Amîr’s Pavilion. Entering at once we passed through the Octagonal Hall, and in the small room opposite the entry I saw the Amîr lying back on the pillows of his couch. He was rolling his head from side to side and groaning in great pain. Malek, the Page, was kneeling on the couch rubbing His Highness’s knee. The two eldest sons, the Princes Habibullah and Nasrullah, were in the room with the Amîr, as were Perwana Khan, Jan Mahomed Khan, the Dabier-ul-Mulk, Mir Ahmad Shah—in fact, most of the principal officers of the Kingdom who were in Kabul at the time. These were kneeling around the room. Everyone had a look of strained and anxious attention.

It was obvious that the Amîr was very ill, and I said in English to the Armenian,

“Enquire if His Highness wishes to place himself under my medical care.”

His Highness, turning his head and looking at me, said, “Bâli! I wish it.”

I laid down my turban, removed the spurs from my boots, and set to work to examine His Highness’s condition.

He had acute gouty inflammation of the right shoulder, elbow, wrist, and knee, and shooting neuralgic pains in the left calf. There was coarse crepitation of the left axillary base, with cough; some enlargement of the heart; extreme vesical irritability, and faucial congestion; and albuminuria to the extent roughly of a fifth. His temperature was 102 degrees Fahr.: the pulse weak; and I was informed that he had had no sleep for several nights.

I sat down a minute to consider what I would do. The condition was serious: for the Amîr had been ill, on and off, to my knowledge, since September the 9th, and possibly longer. The medical treatment to which he had been subjected by the Hakims for his complaint was, to my mind, unscientific, and even dangerous. He had been bled, I was informed, nearly to faintness, and leeched freely several times: he had been purged violently and often: and his gouty foot had been plunged into iced water. What else was done I do not know; but this was enough.

A lantern being procured, I went at once to the Hospital, which is at the edge of the Palace gardens, and obtained such medicines as I needed. I was accompanied by the Hindustani Priest-doctor, who was accused of murdering his Superior Officer in India, and who, as I have mentioned, was not under my orders. We returned to the Palace, and the medicines were placed in charge of a trusted Page.

I weighed and measured the medicines in suitable doses, and when they were dissolved I handed the glass to His Highness. It did not enter my head to taste a dose of the medicine in front of His Highness, nor did he ever require me to do so. His Highness took the glass, and, murmuring,

“In the name of God—the merciful and compassionate,” he drank the contents.

I fomented the inflamed joints with hot water, applying suitable medicines, and finally bandaged them gently in cotton-wool and tissue. I then requested as many as I could ask, to withdraw, in the hope that His Highness might sleep; and I went into an adjoining room. I did not give His Highness any opiate or other sleeping draught, wishing rather to trust to the effect of the medicines I had given him. I ought to say that His Highness, with a courtesy that never leaves him, gave orders for meals and suitable accommodation for sleeping to be prepared for me in the adjoining room or alcove. In half-an-hour His Highness slept. The Princes left very quietly about two hours afterwards.

I need not say that, though a couch, covered with silk and gold embroidery, had been prepared for me, I did not lie down. I had supper, which was brought silently by the chief cook: and then, at intervals during the night, stole in to look at the Royal patient. Exhausted by suffering and want of rest, and relieved by the action of the medicines, he slept soundly for three or four hours.

In the early morning His Highness woke: he expressed himself as nearly free from pain, and was most grateful to me. I administered the medicines, again applied the fomentations and regulated His Highness’s diet.

Everyone made much of me, from Prince to Page boy. Daily I was required to send a written report of the Amîr’s condition to Her Highness, the Sultana, and to Prince Habibullah.

The next day, I was called to the Harem Serai, for the Sultana was very ill. The Amîr directed me to attend Her Highness.

I, therefore, left the Amîr’s Pavilion and, by His Highness’s order, was accompanied by the Priest-doctor, to the Harem Serai. The great gates were opened by an old white-bearded man, and we were admitted into a covered portico. The old man left us a moment, and on returning, he ushered us into a large paved quadrangle surrounded by high white buildings. No one was to be seen. We crossed the silent quadrangle, and passing up some steps entered a building on the north side.

An open door led from the lobby at the top of the steps into a long corridor, curtained and carpeted, but otherwise empty. At the end was a door, to enter which we ascended three steps. We now found ourselves in a large room at right angles to the corridor, and lighted by a window at the end. Towards the other end of the room a thin crimson silk curtain was stretched entirely across. The room was furnished very like an English drawing-room. A carpet was on the floor, curtains by the windows, pictures on the wall, and several tables by the side of the wall, on which were vases, candelabra, and china ornaments. In nearly the centre of the room there was standing on the floor a large and very ornamental glass candelabrum, about six feet high. There were three or four little Page boys in the room, about nine or ten years of age.

As we entered, a voice from behind the curtain pronounced the usual Persian salutation of welcome. It was the Sultana speaking. She had a deep, musical voice. I bowed and advanced. A chair was placed for me near the curtain, and tea and cigarettes were brought. After I had tasted the tea, Her Highness requested me to smoke. Accordingly, I lit a cigarette, and I heard from behind the curtain the bubble of the chillim. The Sultana then commenced describing her symptoms, but the Hindustani Priest-doctor had an imperfect knowledge of English, and he asked that an Interpreter might be sent for. A messenger was at once sent for the Armenian, who presently entered saying, with a bow, “Salaam, Aleikoum.” He took his stand near me.

The Sultana raised the curtain sufficiently to pass her hand underneath, and I examined the pulse. It was rapid (133), and weak. I perceived that she was lying on a couch—and that the hand was white, and was that of a young woman. I described the use of the clinical thermometer, and handed it to her. When she returned it to me the indicator marked a temperature of 105 degrees Fahr.

She complained of cough, and with some little difficulty I managed, by asking her to stand, to listen to the sounds of the chest through the curtain, using a straight wooden stethoscope. Not knowing the height of Her Highness, I nearly struck her in the face in endeavouring to find the position of the chest, and she cried out: however, she laughed when she heard of my difficulty.

She had bronchial catarrh: there were no morbid cardiac sounds; and she had Malarial fever. I enquired as to the history of the illness, and the habits of the patient, and heard that she was accustomed to inhale tobacco-smoke from the chillim pretty much all day; and that in order to procure sleep she was accustomed to take sixty grains of chloral nightly!

I advised the cessation of smoking for a time, and the Sultana laughed.

After about an hour, I asked permission to retire. I prescribed quinine and a cough mixture; but in the evening, to my horror, I was called upon to weigh out the usual dose of chloral, tie down the cork of the bottle, and seal it with my own seal. Sleep! of course I did not sleep. If a lie had been told me about the dose, the Sultana would be found dead in the morning.

Meanwhile the Amîr was distinctly better that day, though of course he was still very ill. The temperature was normal: the vesical irritability had disappeared: there was no difficulty in swallowing; and the pain in the joints was less.

The next morning the Sultana was somewhat better. The relief to my mind cannot be described: I will not attempt it. In my visit to the Sultana that day I again urged upon her the advisability, if she wished to get rid of her cough, of ceasing to smoke,—at any rate for a time. She would not listen.

I explained to the Amîr my difficulty with Her Highness, and he arranged a plan in which she could be beguiled into smoking less. I weighed out a little less chloral that evening.

I visited the Amîr every two or three hours during the day, examining his condition. He still had some pain, though vastly less than he had had, and the cough was better.

At two in the morning I was sent for by the Sultana. She detailed to me the whole of the innocent plot that had been arranged to draw her from the chillim, and laughed at me for thinking she could be so easily beguiled.

I concluded there were certain in the Amîr’s court who brought minute details of what occurred there to the Harem Serai.

The Sultana did not seem angry, for she ordered to be brought for me a present of Cashmere shawls, embroidery, and furs.

The Amîr that day had some burning pain in the hand and foot, but it yielded to treatment, and he was quite bright in the evening, laughing heartily several times. Musicians and dancing girls were sent for and many of the chief Officials visited the Palace. His Highness did not sleep well that night.

The next day—the fifth of my attendance—the Amîr felt better, there was very little pain, and the cough was less. He could not sleep, however; and in the afternoon there was a return of pain in the knee.

Meanwhile I was nearly worn out with want of sleep and anxiety. The Amîr was a good patient, considering that he was an Oriental King. He would take what medicine and food I advised, but I could not regulate such matters as the number of visitors he should receive, nor even such a thing as the admission of musicians.

The Sultana, on the other hand, was anything but a good patient. She would not do as I advised, and she wished me to give her just what medicines she thought best.

Added to all this, I was greatly embarrassed and annoyed by the Hindustani Interpreter, whom I did not trust. He was always at the Court; and he constantly interrupted the Armenian before the Amîr, and corrected him when there was no need. I told him to “Chûp!”—“shut up”—once or twice, but it was not enough, and the fifth night I called him into my room, and in a low voice told him—I admit, harshly—that I did not need either his corrections or interference: that the Armenian was my Interpreter; and that he could hold his tongue till he was called upon to speak.

That night His Highness was restless, and in the morning (Sunday) to my amazement he said he would take no more European medicine! I was aghast! He was much better. What had displeased him? But I was worn out, and I went to my room and lay on the bed in my clothes—I had never taken them off—and went sound asleep.

By-and-bye I was aroused; the Sultana had sent for me as soon as she had awakened from the sleeping-draught.

The Armenian told her that His Highness had ceased taking European medicine. She was astonished and alarmed, and at once wrote a letter to the Amîr. She asked him what it all meant—she read the letter to me—asked whether he were a King or a boy. At one time he said the English Doctor was all that was wise and learned, and the next he ceased taking his medicine: was he going back to the Hakims who had killed his father and his father’s father! Why was this?

The answer from the Amîr arrived: the Sultana read it to me.

His Highness said he was a King and no boy; but he added that there was quarrelling between two Interpreters and he feared there would be a mistranslation and that he should suffer. For this reason he considered it better that he should cease taking European medicine for the present. He was not angry with the English Doctor: on the contrary, he realized the benefit he had received from his treatment, and would resume his medicine when the suitable time arrived.

That night Malek, the Page, came to me. He said that the Hindustani had crept to the Amîr in the morning, and had whispered this story: He had implored me to give good medicine to the Amîr: and that at once I had wished to kick and strike him; that I was giving His Highness alcohol in all his medicines, and it was this that lulled the pain, though it would afterwards make him worse: that he had heard me say I had only this one medicine that could affect His Highness!

I could not find it in my heart to blame the Amîr. Wearied out with months of suffering, he lacked the keen judgment that is his characteristic. Nevertheless, in a matter of such vast importance, the fact, that any condition could place one at the mercy of an obscure intriguing Hindustani, gave such a shock to my confidence that I never entirely recovered it while I was in the service of the Amîr. Once in a lifetime was enough for such an experience as I had been through; for had the illness of either Amîr or Sultana terminated fatally, while they were under my care, my fate would have been sufficiently appalling.

I was to visit His Highness daily, although he was under the care of the Hakims. His manner to me was never so kind as now. I examined his condition as before, and he described to me the treatment the Hakims were subjecting him to.

They had no specific medicine, but administered drugs that produced frequent and copious alvine evacuations. I said one day—in my anxiety—that I feared they were, in His Highness’s feeble condition, overdoing this line of treatment. His Highness rebuked me and said,

“When I am under the care of Hakims, I do as Hakims say; when under your care, as you say.”

I continued attending the Sultana. She was much better and was very kind. She read poetry to me, and commenced teaching me to talk Persian. One day she said in Persian,

“Say this ——” and she repeated some sentence.

In my weariness, for it was in the middle of the night, I mechanically repeated after her, “Say this ——” and I gave the sentence. At once the Page boys and the girls behind the curtains burst out laughing.

As we came away I said to the Armenian, “Why were you so sulky to-night?”

He had sat very glum in the Harem Serai. He said—

“Sir, you European, and, perhaps, no harm come for you—but for me, Amîr Sahib blow me from gun if Her Highness laugh while I there.”

I was considerably taken aback.

Meanwhile, I was working down the chloral: I had got fifteen grains less; but I couldn’t stop the chillim.

There was no longer any necessity for me to live in His Highness’s Pavilion, and he gave orders for quarters to be prepared for me in the Prince’s quadrangle near by, so that I could be on the spot in case of necessity.

The room was curtained and carpeted, and wood for the fire provided. My servants came to wait upon me. An arm-chair of His Highness’s was sent, a table, and candelabra. My friend, Shere Ali, came to see me frequently; and the Page boys at all hours. I visited the Amîr twice a day. Sometimes, he invited me to sit on the very couch he was lying on, and he told me many interesting stories of his adventures in Russia.

For a few days His Highness continued about the same. The albumen had nearly cleared away (sp. gr. 1012), though crystals of lithic acid were deposited, and occasional tube casts could be seen.

A day or two afterwards, His Highness had a return of pain, and when I went to see him he said that he felt weaker, and admitted that the Hakims had overdone the form of treatment I spoke of.

The next day he was worse: the pains were more severe; he had not slept, and he told me he had had shivering and fever in the night.

The day after, the albumenuria returned, to the extent, roughly, of a twelfth in the morning, and later in the day a fifth (sp. gr. 1016). The left ankle commenced swelling at five p.m., the pulse was 100 and weak; Tr. 97·2.

Out of doors it was very cold. The snow had commenced, and it was freezing hard.

CHAPTER XXIV.
Royal Patients.

I thought of the Hindustani, and gnashed upon him: for the Hakims had done much evil already, and I thought they would surely complete their work.

“He has allowed his petty spite to place the life of the Amîr in danger,” thought I; “to say nothing of my life and that of the two Europeans here.”

Mr. Pyne had fortunately been able at this time to obtain leave, and had departed for India with an order for more machinery.

The idea occurred to me in a colloidal form that perhaps I ought to destroy this Hindustani gnat. I say “colloidal,” for I doubt if the idea would ever have crystallized into action. When one has been long trained in the art of saving life, killing does not come readily. I fancy, however, I must have expressed the idea aloud, for the Armenian said:—

“Sir, you not kill it. You big man, he very small man. Your wish, you can shoot Commander-in-Chief or Dabier-ul-Mulk; you not kill two pice Hindustani—dog’s son. Other small man catch it and kill it for you.”

The employment of assassins, however, did not appeal to my imagination as a suitable line of action, and I determined to await the course of events.

For some little time afterwards, if I heard much commotion or bustle outside, I said to myself,

“The hour has come. The Amîr has joined his fathers; now for the last fight.”

Then, again, I thought this over. What was the good of fighting. Granted that my revolver gave me six lives—why should I take six lives? It would not save my own. And, query again: Was my life worth six others? I rode to the workshops and discussed the matter with the engineers, Stewart and Myddleton. They were good fellows; but they did not agree with me. They said they should make a fight for it; that they were worth a good deal more than six Afghans. Anyway, they did not mean to sit down and wait for their throats to be cut like a couple of bullocks.

This did rather appeal to my imagination. There was the fierce excitement and delight of battling for one’s life, in place of the sickening emotion of waiting to be murdered. I determined, therefore, to waive the point as to whether my life were worth six others, and discuss it afterwards if we escaped, which, by the way, I did not think very likely. I did not so much mind the idea of a bullet through the brain or heart—it would be a momentary emotion; but a bayonet stab—it does not kill at once; and a cut throat I always had a horror of: I have seen so many.

Every night a dinner in European style was brought me, and one day His Highness asked me if I liked fruit. Forthwith, two large trays were brought every night: one of fresh fruit—sweet lemons, grapes, pomegranates, and apples; and one of dried fruits and nuts, far more than any one person could eat; and my servants had the benefit.

I continued attending the Sultana. She showed me her crowns: they were heavy, of beaten gold, worked in intricate designs, and lined with velvet. One had ostrich plumes on it, another had common artificial flowers tucked in round the top. I suggested that flowers were unsuitable on a crown, and Her Highness tore them out. She showed me her hats and bonnets, handing them to me under the curtain. Most of them were English, of an old-fashioned shape. I said they were scarcely fit for a Queen, but she said that the Amîr liked to see her wear them. One was a fur cap—seal, I think—trimmed with a sable tail. It was very pretty, but artificial flowers had been added. I said that flowers grew in the summer and fur was worn in the winter, perhaps it would look better without the flowers. Her Highness removed them at once. She showed me a photograph album: it contained a few photographs: among them was a copy of a painting of Queen Catherine of Russia. It was a very beautiful face, and the Sultana spoke in admiration of the Queen.

Her Highness asked me to choose a photograph and she would give it me. I had noticed hanging on the wall of the room a photograph, framed in wood, of His Highness the Amîr. I said that as I had none of my Royal Master I should like that one, if Her Highness could spare it. At once it was taken down by one of the Page boys and handed to me.

The Sultana asked me if I knew the names of the Princes, the sons of the Amîr. When I had repeated them she asked me if I knew her own name. I had imagined it was not correct for anyone, not of the family, to know a lady’s name. I therefore told Her Highness that, before me, she was spoken of as “the Illustrious Lady.” She, however, told me at once that her name was Halima, so that my prevarication was unnecessary.

She showed me a star and a sword His Highness the Amîr had given her. The Amîr was away fighting, and a rebellion arose in Kabul; the young Sultana at once issued from the Harem, veiled, took command of the troops in Kabul, and quelled the rebellion.

The messenger Her Highness sent when she called me was apparently a lad of fifteen or sixteen, called Sirdar. I was informed that it was not a boy but a girl. She was dressed in trousers, tunic, and turban, and considered herself, as indeed did other people, a man. It seemed a little odd to me at first when she came to my room in the middle of the night to call me to attend the Sultana, and coolly sat on the couch while I dressed. I gave her a pair of braces. She had to be on duty night and day, and was worn-looking from insufficient sleep, and she threatened to box my ears if I did not increase the dose of chloral I was giving the Sultana: I had worked it down to forty grains.

I told her I was afraid to increase the dose, as the medicine was a deadly poison, and that its prolonged use in large doses was productive of considerable harm.

The Sultana, not knowing the danger of the medicine, had learnt the habit from the Hindustani medical attendant, who was my predecessor. This man had managed, when he had acquired considerable wealth, to escape from the country. The Amîr told me he was an utter scoundrel:—which is possible.

The Sultana usually sent for me as soon as she woke, about one or two o’clock in the early morning, for the chloral apparently did not procure her more than four or five hours’ sleep.

One night, after having as usual handed her the clinical thermometer, I found, to my horror, that the indicator marked a temperature of over 106 degrees Fahr.!

I at once asked Her Highness to allow me to examine the pulse. She passed her hand under the curtain. It was cool, and the pulse was steady—seventy beats a minute. There could be no fever with that pulse. I looked at the Armenian, and he pointed silently to the tea cup by my side. I heard some smothered laughter behind the curtain, and the truth flashed upon me. The thermometer had been dipped for a moment in the hot tea—hence 106 degrees Fahr.

Concerning the sleeping draught, Her Highness the Sultana never spoke to me, but Sirdar, her messenger, urged upon me frequently the necessity of increasing the dose, saying that Her Highness could not sleep, and was becoming angry with me. I refused to increase the dose of chloral, and endeavoured to substitute other soporifics.

The result was, that after about a fortnight Her Highness refused European medical treatment. So far from worrying me, this was an absolute relief to my mind; for the position was not without its dangers.

A week after this came Christmas day. I gave instructions to the Chief Cook, and then invited Messrs. Stewart and Myddleton to dine with me in my rooms at the Palace.

It was a clear sunny day; bitterly cold, with a hard frost. My guests arrived on horseback about six p.m., their servants bringing knives, forks, and plates, cigars, and a bottle of whisky. I hadn’t such a thing as whisky, but I produced with great pride a quart bottle of champagne that I had found in the medical stores, and which I had the Amîr’s permission to use.

We sat down to dinner. My brass candelabra, each with three candles, lit up the festive board: a wood fire blazing on the hearth threw a warm glow over the room: the white walls cast back the light; and the cosy room, with crimson curtains drawn over door and windows, made us almost forget Afghanistan, and we lost, if only for a time, the feeling of insecurity in which we were living.

We had soup, tinned salmon, partridges, roast mutton, anchovy toast, plum pudding all blazing, and fruit. Then came the champagne. With subdued but proud excitement we cut the wire and waited for the cork to pop—it did not pop. We eased it a little with our thumb, and waited. We patted the bottle gently; then shook it—and still waited. The Armenian, standing by, smiled.

“You might bring a corkscrew,” I said, carelessly; “the cork is evidently hard.”

He produced a corkscrew with suspicious readiness, and I proceeded to carefully insert it. Oh, yes, the cork came out easily enough. It was not the fault of the cork. But the champagne!—Did you ever taste champagne that hadn’t any fizz in it? It is beastly.

“What’s wrong with it?” I asked the Armenian, when he had tasted it.

“No-thing, Sir!” he said. “He in Hospital ’leven years, all his strength gone away.”

We “passed” the champagne; whisky was good enough for us.

I told the Armenian that it was only blue-blooded Dukes like himself who could drink flat champagne.

“Sir, he is not flat; very good sherbet he is; I like him.”

But after he had been to England he wouldn’t drink champagne that had been eleven years in the Hospital.

After dinner Myddleton sang with great taste, and in a sweet tenor voice, some old English ballads—“The Thorn,” “The Anchor’s Weighed,” and a Christmas carol; Stewart occasionally putting in a seconds. I enjoyed it immensely: it was such a treat to hear music again. I did not sing myself, for some of my servants were Afghans and they were in the room: I should have lowered myself in their eyes if I had sung; my guests, however, were indifferent to the opinion of the Afghans.

About midnight they departed, and rode back, escorted by a couple of soldiers, to their rooms at the workshops.